


From Scratch

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Cookies, Developing Relationship, F/M, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-04 04:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12763050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Sansa adores holiday baking so when Catelyn is forced to do last minute Christmas shopping, Sansa volunteers to bake the Christmas cookies from scratch on her own.  It's nice to have a little peace and quiet in the normally full and noisy household.  It's nice to have a distraction from the hurts and disappointments of the past semester as well.  However, when Jon Snow, the unofficial eighth member of House Stark, winds up joining her, a simple morning of baking becomes something more meaningful by far.





	From Scratch

Cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves. The air was alive with spices. Cocoa, sugar and mint. Their sweetness filled her nostrils. The Stark family kitchen smelled heavenly this snowy morning in late December.

Sansa had risen before the sun was up to see her family out the door. She’d braided her hair and thrown on her mother’s faded holly-covered apron. She took a moment to savor the last of her French Vanilla cappuccino before she returned to her task. She slowly added the unsweetened cocoa and flour mixture to the blended sugar, brown sugar, eggs and butter and then carefully folded in the chocolate and mint chips once the consistency was just right.

She adored holiday baking. Normally, her mother would have been in charge of this having taught her daughter the art of baking cookies from scratch years earlier, but this year Catelyn Stark had been forced to head out for last minute Christmas shopping and Sansa had volunteered to bake the traditional cookies that would be gifted to their neighbors (with a few left over for Santa Claus and the family) on her own.

She didn’t mind this opportunity to bake at home alone. In fact, she was secretly delighted. With a family of seven…well, eight actually…there was very little opportunity to enjoy quiet time by oneself in the Stark household.

There was more to it than that though. Since she’d gone off to school, Sansa had come to realize how much she missed living at home. And, this past semester had been extremely difficult to endure, at least on the personal front. Therefore, she was thoroughly enjoying her holiday break back at home with her family and away from her troubles there.

_And if Mother were here, I’d end up telling her all about it._

Sansa usually shared everything with her mother but she was nearly twenty-one and thought perhaps it was time she learned to deal with her problems on her own. Except she’d never had a problem like this before and she wasn’t sure she could bear telling it all to anyone just yet…much as part of her needed to get it out.

She cast aside those concerns and sighed happily when the oven beeped. The first batch was done.

As she grabbed her oven mitts, the dogs started barking loudly. Someone was there. The back door opened with a bang but Sansa’s initial sense of panic faded when the dogs immediately stopped barking. This was no stranger. It was just someone coming home unexpectedly early. That someone was busy kicking the snow off their boots in the mudroom. That _someone_ was interrupting Sansa’s morning of peace and reflection and baking bliss.

She stifled a groan and looked up from the sheets of freshly baked Gingerbread Men cookies she’d pulled out of the oven. She’d just finished scooping out the rounded tablespoons of dough onto more baking sheets for the batch of Mint Chocolate Chip Chocolate cookies. There were still the Snickerdoodles and the Sugar Cookies left to make.

She wiped off her hands and waited for the intruder to make themselves known.

“Hello?” a deep voice called from around the corner.

_Jon._

Jon Snow, Robb’s best friend and the unofficial eighth member of House Stark, was normally the total opposite of intrusive but he did seem to have a knack for popping up when Sansa found herself alone.

“In the kitchen, Jon,” she replied, hoping that her voice didn’t betray any hint of annoyance.

There was nothing wrong with Jon. He was part of the family. She loved him. They just never seemed to have all that much in common though Sansa supposed one could say that about her and her siblings as well.

He and Robb had been friends since they were eight when Jon and his single mother had moved in down the street. Lyanna had worked long hours to support them both and, as the boys were so close, Catelyn Stark had offered to watch Jon as often as his mother needed. So, Jon had spent a good deal of his childhood with Sansa’s family, growing up amongst them in many ways.

But while Jon was a quiet boy much of the time, Robb was rambunctious so the pair of them were often sent outdoors to play, even in winter. Her sister Arya had preferred their boisterous brand of play to Sansa’s more subdued ways. She started joining them before they got old enough to head off on their bikes around the neighborhood for extended periods and leave her behind. By the time they were twelve, Robb wouldn’t play with Arya anymore but Jon went on indulging her a while longer until she decided that Bran and Rickon were tolerably wild enough to be her playmates as well.

As for Sansa…Sansa spent many days of her childhood alone in her bedroom whether it was sunny or snowy outside. She played with her dolls and her ponies and her beloved stuffed animals when Jeyne Poole couldn’t come over and join her. She’d sing songs and read her favorite stories.

And sometimes, she’d look up to find Jon standing in her doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets watching her. Her cheeks would grow pink, knowing she’d been overheard in her play. No one wanted to play with her. She hoped he wasn’t going to make fun of her or tell the others about the songs she sang to her furry little friends and her dolls.

“Did you need something?” she’d ask a touch defensively.

“No. I was just…I’m sorry,” he’d say and move on.

When playing all alone became too dull, Sansa would follow her mother about the house. She learned to cook and bake and take care of the house by watching and helping.

“What would I do without your help, my darling?” Catelyn Stark would whisper to her daughter and Sansa would swell with pride.

“I just want to be like you, Mother,” the girl would reply.

“You will be, sweet one. You will. You’ll take care of your own family someday, just as I do.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Once in a while…when Sansa was still just a girl, Mother would play dolls with her, too. Those were Sansa’s most cherished childhood memories. That was the only time she ever saw Catelyn Stark as the girl she’d once been. But a mother of five…or six…could never sit down to play for long.

Her mother would brush out the long, red hair of one of Sansa’s dolls and sing a song. And Sansa would watch and mimic her mother’s actions with her favorite doll, the one that had curly, dark hair…much like Jon’s hair or his mother’s.

“We show them our love with how we take care of them,” her mother would murmur as she brushed and sang…just as she would brush out Sansa’s hair each night after her bath. “Don’t forget.”

Sansa never forgot.

When Jon was sixteen his mother died in an auto accident and the Starks had gained custody of him. He’d lived with them until he’d turned eighteen and left for college.

Sansa had been thirteen when it happened. She could remember crying at Lyanna’s funeral. She knew she’d hugged Jon dozens and dozens of times during that period while they were all still reeling. She’d not known what to say so she’d hugged him. She also had apologized to him pointlessly and repeatedly for something she’d had no control over.

But they hadn’t wound up talking any more often because of it or forming a deeper bond over it. And, she’d been thirteen…too hung up on herself and her friends and the boys she’d liked then to spend much time thinking about Jon once the initial shock and grief had passed.

However, she remembered her mother’s words and did her best to show Jon she loved him in little ways; by refolding his shirts that he never could seem to fold neatly for instance or saving the last Snickerdoodle for him or picking pretty flowers in the woods near their house that he could take to his mother’s grave. His expression when he would catch her doing something for him was…well, difficult to read. But it was clear it pleased him and that was enough.

He’d went away for college and Sansa hadn’t seen much of Jon the past five years. Other than the holidays and the rare times over the summer that one or the other wasn’t off somewhere with friends or part-time jobs, they’d spent little time in each other’s presence. And then, they were always surrounded by family…except when her own graduation day had come.

Jon had come home for the weekend to celebrate her graduation with the family. Sansa had a boyfriend then and plans with her friends for that night but first there would be a family dinner. She’d chaffed at it. She was eager to run off and join her fellow graduates.

But she’d still smiled to see Jon after not seeing much of him in so long. He was the last to hug her after the ceremony and it had occurred to Sansa that he was a man now. He was twenty-one then so of course he was man. It was just the first time she’d realized it. He’d grown a beard and was wearing a suit…and he was quite handsome she decided then.

After dinner with the family, Sansa was changing for her night out with her friends when Jon had knocked on her bedroom door. He’d held a small, elegantly-wrapped box in his hands.

“Sorry,” he’d said when she’d opened the door for him. “I thought you’d be…”

“What’s that?” she’d asked curiously.

“A gift…for you…for your graduation,” he’d murmured, looking down at the floor as she still struggled with the zipper of her sleeveless, floral dress.

A large family and a bustling household didn’t always allow for too much modesty but Jon had never grown as comfortable with that as the others.

“Finish zipping me up?” she’d asked as she took the gift and turned her back to him.

Sansa had stared at the wrapped gift in her hands but became acutely aware of the way his fingers had ghosted across her bare back when he’d started to do her bidding. Her skin had tingled under her bra where his thumb brushed her for just half a second before she felt the zipper being pulled the rest of the way up. She’d shivered at his touch and just as quickly dismissed it as nothing.

“Oh, Jon,” she’d exclaimed when she’d opened the gift and discovered the silver dragonfly necklace inside. “It’s beautiful.”

He’d mumbled over his words about some childhood song he had remembered her singing as a girl.

“The one about the dragonflies,” he’d said whilst ducking his head.

Sansa had kissed him on the cheek in thanks. Just a chaste kiss, her lips had brushed his cheek right above where his newly-grown beard began. She’d chosen to blatantly ignore the way his breath had hitched…or the way her heart had pounded then.

She’d asked him to fasten it for her so she could wear it. Again, there had been that same awareness of Jon when she felt his warm fingertips sweep her hair out of the way and the slight tickle of his breath against the back of her neck as he closed the clasp.

“I love it,” she’d said softly as she’d looked into the mirror.

She’d seen Jon standing behind her gazing at her reflection. And somewhere within her, Sansa had thought, _I love you_. But she didn’t say it. She did love him…just not _that_ way. Not then.

He’d taken a year off after graduating from college and she only knew he’d spent a good deal of time traveling during it. He’d moved back to Winterfell for graduate school at the start of this school year but Sansa had been away for college herself.

“Hey,” he said as he came around the corner and interrupted Sansa’s memories. “Sorry.”

Sorry. How many times did they say that to one another? It was as though they could never think of what to say except sorry.

“What are you sorry for Jon?” she asked. She meant in playfully. It came out a bit harshly though.

“I dunno,” he sighed. “I guess I figured I’m spoiling your time alone.”

He always seemed to know. He was far too intuitive when it came to the moods of others. It made her uncomfortable at times. It made her feel exposed. How did he come to be blessed or cursed with the ability to read people so well? Perhaps it came from being an only child in a house filled with other children. Or perhaps it came from always feeling a bit underfoot, forever an outsider and out of place in their home which was supposedly his home, too…and yet not completely.

_What has anyone here done to make you feel that way? Do I make you feel that way?_

She nearly said sorry then and quickly bit her lip.

“You’re not spoiling anything, Jon,” she said quietly instead. “I’m just baking.” He nodded but she could see the skepticism in his eyes as he walked over to the counter where the gingerbread cookies sat. “I, uh…thought you and Robb were taking Arya and the boys snow tubing today.”

“I didn’t want to go. Well, I did in a way but…I decided I wanted a morning in.”

“Oh. Well, I need to move those to the rack to cool,” she said as she put the mint chocolate ones in the oven and set the timer.

“I could help,” he offered.

Sansa started to refuse his help out of habit. She could bake very well on her own. But there was something needy in the way he’d said it, in the way he was staring at her with his grey eyes and his hands shoved in his pockets. If she said no, he’d likely go off to his room and leave her be. But she wouldn’t be saying no.

“Sure. That’d be great,” she said, passing him a spatula.

He started moving the cookies carefully one by one. It was clear he didn’t spend much time making cookies though. He cringed when one of them crumbled despite his care.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“You don’t have to be sorry. That’s just how the cookie crumbles,” she joked.

She was smiling at him, trying her best to put him at ease. She was a rewarded with a brilliant smile in return. Jon was quite handsome. She had known this for years…but he was even more handsome when he smiled. Robb Stark was a very handsome young man as well but he was her brother Robb and Jon was not her brother. Jon was…Jon.

She leaned back against the counter as he continued moving the little men from the pan to the rack.

“Here’s a little secret about cookie baking…” she said when he’d finished and looked uncertainly at the crumbled Gingerbread Man. “There’s always a few that we are forced to classify as rejects for some reason or another that Mother would never give to Santa or the neighbors. So, when a cookie crumbles, it’s fair game to be eaten. It’s a rule.”

“I like that rule,” he said grinning at her. He broke the man in half. “Run, run, as fast as you can…” he teased as he handed her half.

“You can’t catch me,” she responded before they both finished together, “I’m the Gingerbread Man!”

She giggled when he quickly scarfed down his half of the little man. “Mmmm…it’s delicious, Sansa.”

“Thank you,” she said as her cheeks grew hot. He was watching her again, that same wistful look as when she’d catch him watching her play when she was little. She cleared her throat and asked, “Wanna help me make the Snickerdoodles next? I know they’re your favorites.”

His earlier grin faded into a softer, sadder smile. “How’d you know that?”

“Mother told me. Your mother always made them every year at Christmas. After she died, my mom found her recipe and we started making them from scratch, too…for you.” She glanced up from the counter, suddenly afraid her words might’ve brought him pain. Sure enough, his eyes were glassy and his smile was completely gone now. “I’m so sorry, Jon,” she said, already feeling the tears prick her own eyes. No one cried alone in Sansa’s presence. “I shouldn’t have said…I didn’t mean to make you…”

He sat down the spatula, drew a deep breath and walked over to where she stood. He pulled her into a hug.

“Let’s stop apologizing for that, alright?” he asked.

He was warm. He smelled good. His body was hard but his embrace was loving and gentle. His strong arms wrapped around her felt decidedly perfect…more ideal than she cared to admit. He kissed the top of her head and she nuzzled into the side of his cheek as a tear or two escaped.

“Alright,” she agreed as she pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Will you help me then?”

“I’d love to. I can unwrap a log of dough with the best of them,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief along with the unshed tears in them.

Sansa gasped in mock horror. “Cookies from a log, Jon Snow?! What sort of madness is that?!”

“I’m teasing. I know you and Cat always make them from scratch. I used to…” He trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d watch sometimes…from there,” he said, pointing towards the doorway to the family room. “I always wondered what it’d be like to join in…to help.”

What could she say to that? Sorry? No, she wouldn’t say that now.

He would’ve been welcomed by her mother, Sansa knew. Catelyn Stark loved him and had always treated him the same as any of her three sons. Perhaps as a younger girl Sansa might’ve resented his presence though if he’d intruded on her special time with her mother. Maybe that’s why he’d always hung back, stayed just out of sight. He had always been intuitive, even as a boy.

But she would never wish to make him feel that way now.

“Here’s an apron.  Put that on and I’ll teach you all about the proper way to make cookies from scratch,” she said, handing over a newer apron covered in poinsettias.

“Only if you promise not to take photos of me in it,” he replied wryly as he pulled it on.

 

 

An hour later, the kitchen counter was filled with cookies cooling on racks and the delicious aroma filled the house. The last batch of sugar cookies was baking. Jon brewed a pot of coffee while Sansa poured a glass of milk. They sat down at the kitchen table together to enjoy a plateful of ‘rejects’ that they couldn’t possibly give the neighbors or Santa Claus.

The kitchen was a bit messier than normal as Jon had had a little trouble with the mixer. But they’d just laughed together as Sansa had helped him rid his face and his curls of the dusting of flour. They could clean everything else up soon enough.

They had talked and caught up on the many experiences they’d had over the past five years while they baked cookies from scratch. Things they’d not shared in the few moments they’d been alone together during the previous holidays and summers.

When they sat down at the table, the talk turned to more recent events. Sansa’s stomach twisted into knots. Like a caged bird, the words fluttered in her heart and in her throat longing to come out.

Jon had turned on the stereo and U2’s ‘It’s Christmas, Baby’ was playing. Bono was crooning “Baby, please come home” and that longing overwhelmed her. She couldn’t stand another second of keeping her secret shame and heartache buried. She needed to tell someone about the past semester. _Someone_ was sitting right across from her. Someone who loved her and wouldn’t judge her.

She confessed to Jon what she hadn’t had the heart to share with her mother just yet…about Joffrey and his hurtful words and rough hands. Jon’s eyes flashed with rage on her behalf as her tears fell. He reached out and held her hand when she’d told him about Margaery and her grasping ways. And how the two of them had started sleeping together behind Sansa’s back, how she’d discovered them three weeks ago, how Joffrey had laughed cruelly and Margaery had turned her head in shame and how everyone in her sorority house whispered when she passed by now.

“I don’t want to go back there,” she said, as the tears slid silently down her face. “I’d rather come back home. I could transfer but…I don’t want to disappoint Mother and Father. They were so proud of me getting accepted at KLU.”

“They’d not be disappointed by that, Sansa,” Jon said in an assuring tone. “I know they’d love having you here again. And, Winterfell’s a good school. I’d like to know you were here and happy. I’d be around campus, too. Not that I’d be much of an inducement for you to…” He smiled shyly at her and added, “I hate to think of him being anywhere near you again. I hate to think of them hurting you…of you being back there and sad with no one close by to comfort you.”

He squeezed her hand and she glanced up to find that those grey eyes which had been hard like granite a moment ago had turned soft like a fog upon water. He was watching her with tenderness…and love. She felt comforted by his touch but she felt something else as well. Jon was steady, quiet and safe. But there was something beneath the surface that his touch seemed to ignite. She gripped his hand tightly in return but this morning was not the time to explore what his touch ignited exactly…not just yet.

 

 

Late that night, after the family had all returned from their busy day and retired to their rooms, Sansa found herself alone with Jon and her father in the family room. The Christmas tree lights were twinkling and traditional carols played softly in the background. Catelyn Stark had prepped and pre-made everything she could for their big feast the next day and gone to bed a short while ago. In the morning, her daughter would help her finish. They’d spend hours in the kitchen together, talking and sharing as they always did while the others amused themselves and each other.

Ned Stark was dozing in his favored chair. Jon watched him snore with a smile on his face. He loved him, she knew…just as her father loved him.

“I never knew my biological father,” Jon had said that morning while they baked. “Ned is the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had.”

“He thinks of you just like a son, Jon,” she’d said. “Mother does as well.”

Sansa sipped her hot spiced cider and Jon joined her on the loveseat with his own.

She’d told her father after dinner that she wanted to move back home and transfer schools. “To start from scratch…here in Winterfell.”

Her father had nodded and been completely understanding. There’d not been one hint of disappointment in his eye…just as Jon had said.

“I told your father I’d set up the new game system for Rickon. He doesn’t have to stay up,” Jon whispered as the patriarch of House Stark snored on.

“Mother has already filled our stockings,” Sansa smiled. _So busy taking care of us…the both of them_. “I think Dad’s afraid he won’t have a right to Santa’s cookies if he doesn’t at least help do Santa’s job.”

“I’ll bet you’re right,” Jon snickered quietly. “I’ll wake him in a few minutes so we can go to bed before it gets too late.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Sansa said as she finished her cider. She started to rise and take their mugs to the sink to wash but Jon put a hand on her elbow.

“Leave those. Let me take care of something for you,” he said, taking the mugs from her hand and setting them back on the coffee table.

“Mother says we show our love with the way we care for others,” she whispered as they faced each other. She felt short of breath and her heart started pounding...and she hoped.

“By making things from scratch,” Jon said with a smile. His eyes were on her face but darting between her eyes and her lips. _He hopes for things as well_ , she thought.

“Thank you for this morning, Jon,” she said, swallowing hard and wanting something now she’d never expected.

“Thank you for allowing me to join you,” he replied, still hesitating…still not sure what would be welcome just yet. “I’ll, uh…wake Ned.” Sansa nodded and knew there was time enough for other things. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint him by eating all the cookies,” he joked though his eyes were still serious.

He mentioned the cookies but it was more than that she knew. Ned Stark was the only father he’d ever known. Jon wouldn’t want to disappoint him in any way.

“You’d never disappoint him, Jon,” she said softly.

She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. A soft kiss, their lips pressed together for a handful of heartbeats. It was a chaste kiss…but one that held promise. She pulled back and they gazed at each other, neither ready to go any further tonight but both well aware that things had changed between them.

The clock struck midnight. It was Christmas.

“Merry Christmas, Jon,” she said as she stood and left him sitting on the loveseat.

His fingers were tracing his lips when she looked back at him. His cheeks were flushed and he smiled at her.

“Merry Christmas, Sansa,” he murmured.

 

* * *

 

 

**Ten Years Later**

 

Cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves. The air was alive with spices. Cocoa, sugar and mint. Their sweetness filled his nostrils. The entire Snow household smelled heavenly this snowy afternoon in late December.

Jon Snow kicked the snow off his boots and heard the happy chatter of his family. He knew the four of them would be busy baking cookies for Santa’s visit later that night.

“Hello? I’m home!” he shouted from the entryway.

Squeals of ‘Daddy!’ greeted his ears as his twin seven-year-old girls, Lyanna and Cat, came bounding from the kitchen to welcome him in…and see what he’d bought.

“What’d you get us, Daddy?” Cat asked as Lyanna was already trying to ‘help’ him with his bags.

“You’ll find out tomorrow, Little Cat. And, I can carry my own purchases, Lya,” he scolded gently to keep her from spoiling their surprises.

“Girls, leave you father be!” Sansa shouted from the kitchen. “Come join us once you put your things away, Jon.”

Jon pulled out an elegantly gift-wrapped jewelry box from his bags and told the girls to hide it beneath the tree.

“Is it for me, Daddy?” Lya asked.

“Or me?”

“It’s for your mother, girls. Go and hide it for me. Then, help your mother and Neddie with the baking. I’ll be right there. And, don’t tell,” he added, holding a finger to his lips and pointing to the package.

Both girls grinned impishly at him as their raven curls bounced with their bobbing heads. He’d thought his girls might have auburn hair like their mother. Sansa had laughed and said genetics were against them. She was right of course.

He quickly stashed his other presents that he’d need to wrap later to join his family in the kitchen. Their son was only four but sitting on the counter watching his mother fold chocolate chips into the dough with rapt attention.

“Your apron awaits, Mr. Snow,” Sansa teased. He rolled his eyes playfully and washed his hands before donning the simple black apron.

“Have you made my favorites yet?” he asked before leaning in to kiss his wife’s cheek and taste a bit of sugar where she’d likely wiped at her face whilst baking.

“No, I saved those for last so you could help,” she replied, giving him that sweet loving smile that still made his heart beat a little faster.

“Mama’s making my favorites now,” Neddie told him. “Chocolate Chip.”

“Mmm…I love those, too. Santa will be happy,” he added with a wink at his wife.

Cat was carefully tearing off pieces of parchment paper to place on the fresh baking sheets. Lya was shoveling up Gingerbread Men a bit haphazardly with the spatula. She grinned when one crumbled and thought no one had noticed. She glanced over her shoulder though and saw her father watching her and smiling.

Her blue eyes looked remorseful until Jon walked over and said, “Run, run, as fast as you can…”

Of course, the other two couldn’t be left out so Jon chose two that he deemed unsuitable for Santa for them.

Sansa put the Chocolate Chip cookies in the oven as Jon poured their three children some milk to enjoy with their ‘rejects.’ Jon’s heart couldn’t feel any fuller when he wrapped his arms around his wife and gave her a kiss as their children dove into their treat.

For as long as he could remember, she’d been the girl for him. Even when he was too young to understand what drew him to stand outside her bedroom, listening to her sing…even when he’d been a quiet boy that didn’t wish to be in the way but had watched her baking with her mother from the other room, wishing he could join them, he’d known there was something special about Sansa. It was part of why he’d returned to the house that December morning ten years ago in the hopes of spending a little time alone with her at last.

“This is my favorite holiday tradition to share,” Sansa whispered.

“Mine, too,” he said, before kissing her more deeply while the children were still busy with their treat. “Nothing beats baking cookies from scratch.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Holy Moly...I wrote something 'G' rated. I hope you enjoyed it :)


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